


Pink Blood - Genocide

by planetundersiege



Series: Keith's fics for "International Fanworks Day 2018" [5]
Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc
Genre: Backstory, Character Depth, Gen, Genocide Jack - Freeform, International Fanworks Day 2018, Killing, Oneshot, Pink Blood, Serial Killer, She is my favorite character, She loves killing, danganronpa - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2019-03-19 00:44:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13693320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/planetundersiege/pseuds/planetundersiege
Summary: For International Fanworks Day 2018.Despair. She loved to see their will disappear as they found out what she would do to them.





	Pink Blood - Genocide

Their screaming.

The thrill of seeing all those men cry their eyes out and beg her on their knees for mercy. Their pathetic looking faces, faces of those who had given up all hope and had lost every part of them. The faces of people who knew they were going to die, yet still didn’t want to face it. Hoping that they could change her mind when they already knew it was pointless, because she was the one all of Japan feared. The alright serial killer who brought despair with her everywhere she went.

Despair. She loved to see their will disappear as they found out what she would do to them.

The way all of the circled back in fear, eyes staring as she took out her graceful homemade scissors, the scissors which she used for all her killing, for making all of her wonderful art pieces.

All the pink blood that dripped onto the floor and the walls. The metallic scent that always stung her nose, it smelt more wonderful than a garden on a sunny summer day or a freshly baked apple pie for her. The joyful feelings when she used her razor sharp scissors to slice into the tender flesh that had been unbroken just moments ago. All of her weapons got dirty, useless. She only used a weapon for one killing, then they were done

But she would always make more.

The way her heartbeat sped up when she dropped her hand into the warm blood and wrote on the walls while securing the once living victims in the right arrangement. It was bliss. When she killed, she really felt like she was alive, she never got enough of it and only wanted more.

Killing was a grace, a holy art, you could compare it to eating the most flavorful lobster with some truffles on the side, all washed down My a glass of century old wine filled with aroma.

Yes, killing was better than that.

She would never stop, it was a part of her. Well, part of half of her.

All hail the queen of Genocide, the one filled with bloodlust.

Killing was the only thing that ever made her excited.


End file.
